Saturday, February 25, 2017

First, the good news. As is usually the case, the Academy did admirable job highlighting the best in motion pictures this year with their nominations, shining a spotlight on lesser known films that would otherwise go overlooked by the general public. Sure, you'll always have some casual viewers tuning in who haven't heard of most of the nominees but there's just no way around that. You have to reward quality and hope after Sunday's show more people come away interested in these movies and commit to seeing them since they're really great. I'd rather the telecast lead with that story rather than issues related to politics or the diversity of nominees. The former I'm just plain tired of while the latter already took center stage last year, and honestly, was never the Academy's problem to solve. It was the industry's. While I don't anticipate either of those topics taking the night off, I just hope it doesn't unnecessarily usurp the primary objective: Celebrating the movies and worthy work of the nominees. It should be their night, even if I'm cringing at the thought of what they'll possibly say when they get to the podium.

As for the new host, I don't have strong feelings either way on Jimmy Kimmel, but can conclusively condemn the laziness of the selection, which just reeks of shameless corporate synergy. I expect that from the other awards telecasts but (perhaps naively) regarded the Academy Awards as being above that, or at least doing a good enough job pretending to be. Part of the fun each year was guessing who would be a worthy choice as host and now that's apparently out the window in favor of making sure ABC gets free advertising for their talk show. Combine that with the mishandling of the nominations announcement, and I'm less than optimistic about a telecast that could still surprise under the best of circumstances.

What won't be a surprise is the La La Land taking home the lion's share of these awards. Tying Titanic and All About Eve in total number of nominations with 14, it won't win them all, but it should win at least 9. That's enough to make the evening a certifiable sweep. There just isn't a single emerging challenger strong enough to give it trouble and my predictions below reflect that. The best case scenario is that they at least spread the wealth a little bit to keep it interesting and the telecast stays under 5 hours. Unlike last year, when I had a horse in the race with Room, I can't say I'm as personally invested in Sunday's outcomes. If anything, that may be a plus and bode well for my predictions, sparing me an embarrassment like missing Best Picture. All my picks are below, along with some comments on the major categories. And as usual, I'll reserve the right to make adjustments right up until the show starts.

*Predicted Winners

Best Animated FeatureKubo and the Two Strings, Travis Knight and Arianne SutnerMoana, John Musker, Ron Clements and Osnat ShurerMy Life as a Zucchini, Claude Barras and Max KarliThe Red Turtle, Michael Dudok de Wit and Toshio SuzukiZootopia, Byron Howard, Rich Moore and Clark Spencer

Best Original Song
“Audition (The Fools Who Dream),” La La Land — Music by Justin Hurwitz; Lyric by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul
“Can’t Stop the Feeling,” Trolls — Music and Lyric by Justin Timberlake, Max Martin and Karl Johan Schuster“City of Stars,” La La Land — Music by Justin Hurwitz; Lyric by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul
“The Empty Chair,” Jim: The James Foley Story — Music and Lyric by J. Ralph and Sting
“How Far I’ll Go,” Moana — Music and Lyric by Lin-Manuel Miranda

*This is Moonlight's to lose and it isn't out of the realm of possibility that it does. A really strong category where really anything (yes, even Arrival) could sweep in and take it. Fences, Hidden Figures and Lion are all based on highly respected source material many could claim were improved upon or at least equaled by their cinematic adaptations. As tempted as they'll be to give a posthumous Oscar to August Wilson for Fences, more tempting will be rewarding Moonlight in a major category besides Supporting Actor since it's likely to lose both Picture and Director. While Barry Jenkins' script feels the least "adapted " of the five (controversially placed here due to it being based on an unproduced play) and Lion is really on an upswing, that shouldn't be enough to slow its momentum. Plus, everyone wants to see Jenkins make it to the podium at least once. Barry, that is. Not Florence Foster.

*Another loaded category where they'll again want to go with a highly respected film not likely to win many other awards due to La La Land's expected dominance. Lonergan's Manchester by the Sea is the most writerly of these, with its observant script tying the gut-wrenching performances as its strongest aspect. For Hell or High Water and especially The Lobster, their nominations are reward enough. Same for Mike Mills' 20th Century Women. The only remaining threat is La La Land and believe me it's a major one. If Chazelle takes this, watch out, since his screenplay is widely regarded as the film's weakest link. But when you're talking about a story that directly speaks to most of the Academy's voting body and their own perceived life experiences, anything's possible. It's a movie that's quite literally hitting them where they live. I'm still picking Manchester, but using a pencil.

*Viola Davis has this in the bag in a race that may be the closest thing we have to a sure bet all night. Of course, that category is still Supporting Actress, which is historically known for major, shocking upsets. I don't foresee that this year, with Davis' biggest challenge coming in the form of Michelle Williams, whose devastating few minutes in Manchester by the Sea is exactly the kind of cameo-like performance the Academy can sometimes like to reward. Just not this year. Naomie Harris feels next in line, followed by Davis' The Help co-star Octavia Spencer and, in distant last, Nicole Kidman. There's still this feeling Viola is owed an Oscar after losing to Streep a few years ago, so the fact that she's deserving and basically carries the film in a role she already won a Tony for on Broadway, is just icing on the cake. The potential roadblock would be category fraud, as many see it as a lead rather than supporting performance. But it won't matter.

*Imagine the possibility of Dev Patel's name being announced as the winner. With the steam Lion's been gaining, it could easily happen. But it won't. I'm writing off Mahershala Ali's Golden Globe loss to Nocturnal Animals' Aaron Taylor-Johnson as a complete fluke because he's winning this. He's likable, respected, humble and gave the performance of his life (and one of the best of the year) in Moonlight. His biggest threat is Patel, an actor few thought would ever see an Oscar ceremony again after starring in and seemingly peaking with Best Picture winner Slumdog Millionaire nearly nine years ago. Jeff Bridges' Texas Ranger in Hell or High Water is supposedly too reminiscent of other recent curmudgeonly roles he's had, there's a feeling Lucas Hedges still "has time," and as much as everyone loves Michael Shannon, this doesn't feel like his Oscar-winning part. We'll definitely know when it gets here. Expect the speech of the night from Ali.

*As much as prognosticators have tried to hype this up as a tight race, it isn't. At least not anymore. It's all about Emma and at this point there's absolutely nothing standing between her and a statue that's coming a lot sooner in her career than many expected. Even those who don't care for La La Land (yes, there are some) have a hard time denying that she's undoubtedly the best thing in it. But it's definitely a different kind of Best Actress victory than Brie Larson's last year for Room, which was probably my favorite Oscar-winning performance of the past decade. It doesn't reach those raw depths, nor it is meant to, instead falling more on the entertainment side of the fence. So while comparisons will exist because of their ages and similar career trajectories up to this point, this strangely feels like a "one for us, one for them" type of win for Stone that's a return to how we perceive the Academy thinks after backing Larson last year.

Streep's annual token nomination is turning into such a bad joke I could actually see this harming her legacy if it continues. "It's a thrill just to be nominated" may actually be real statements uttered by Isabelle Huppert and Ruth Negga. The former has a much better chance based on a career of outstanding work and it was nice to see the latter sneak in, as her nomination for Loving was far from a sure thing. In fact, at one point it was a real long shot so it's great her career gets the bump. Speaking of bumps, that leaves us with Stone's biggest concern: Portman.

As a film, the character-driven Jackie just was just never received as a top tier player going into Awards season against the likes of heavier hitters like La La Land and Moonlight. She needed it to be to get the win. Combine that with having already won for Black Swan, her pregnancy preventing her from doing much promotion and the fact that Stone is untouchable right now, and it becomes an even steeper climb. Her only hope is that they make a political vote based on the subject matter, but if that were the case her film would have been nominated for more, including Best Picture. Mostly middle to older aged white males still comprise much of the Academy and we know how they love to vote for the hot, young ingenue. That only tips the scales further in Stone's favor.

*The tightest contest of the night. while I wouldn't go as far as saying it could tilt either way, Denzel and Affleck are pretty close right now. Still, I'm favoring Affleck, if only because I can't imagine voters seeing that police station scene and not giving it to him based on that alone. And despite their fondness for actors who direct, Washington isn't exactly widely loved within the industry and hasn't stacked up the impressive number of notices and awards Affleck and Manchester has over the past few months. If Andrew Garfield wins, Adrien Brody will be somewhere cheering.

Mortensen really stands out as the most adventurous nomination here, but a very unlikely winner considering how Captain Fantastic was ignored in all other categories. Gosling's performance is La La Land is underappreciated and taken for granted, if only because his co-star's so good. But the best work he did over the past year was in The Nice Guys. The safe money's on Casey, but i wouldn't be completely shocked by a Denzel upset.

*I still contend Damien Chazelle should have won Best Director for Whiplash a couple of years ago (when he went criminally un-nominated) so I'm completely fine with the foregone conclusion that he's getting this. La La Land is a far cry from that film, but he's deserving nonetheless, as his direction is the main reason a concept that had no business working at all ends up working magnificently. To pull that off is an achievement in itself, speaking to his talent and proving he's more than worthy of the statue, which could be seen as an investment in his bright future. Jenkins and Lonergan are his strongest competitors with the former having a legitimate chance if the voters don't feel like granting La La Land the sweep that's expected. Historically, Picture and Director rarely split, but it's been happening more in recent years (including last) so anything's possible. Arrival's Villeneuve feels like the odd man out here, while just seeing a nominated Mel Gibson at the Oscars and speculating on the reception he'll get, is reward enough for viewers and movie fans everywhere. He doesn't need the win and won't get it. Chazelle has this in the bag. Best PictureArrivalFencesHacksaw RidgeHell or High WaterHidden FiguresLa La LandLionManchester by the SeaMoonlight

*Since we already know La La Land is winning, let's try speculating on potential alternate scenarios, most of which seem illogical or ridiculous. That's how you know this is over. But it's here where we can start to factor in the cultural and political climate of the past year into the Oscar race. Perhaps sensing the frontrunner is too slight a choice, not diverse or "important" enough to represent 2016 as its Best Picture, voters look elsewhere. The most viable alternative would be Moonlight, a selection that would squash most criticisms leveled at the Academy through the years, such as their alleged slights against minorities and that Brokeback Mountain debacle from over a decade ago. Those aren't good reasons to reward a film with the industry's top prize but it's unfortunately the only scenario I foresee where they would. To rehab their image. What's unfortunate about their mindset is that the film is deserving on its own merits, even if history has proven something like this is just too challenging for them to endorse. They'll think the nomination is enough.

Lion fits more squarely in their wheelhouse and if there's an upset it would be a rousing, inspiring internationally flavored adaptation like this that spoils the party. But as much momentum as it's picked up, it's just not enough, peaking maybe just a little too late. There's some truth in that "Hidden Fences" joke since in voters' minds the two films will probably be interchangeable on their ballots, splitting votes and cancelling each other out. Manchester By the Sea has held strong but it's a depressing wrist-slitter, and no matter how well written and acted, the Academy rarely rewards those with Best Picture.

Hell or High Water, Arrival and the more respected Hacksaw Ridge are considered genre pictures that are well liked, but may not have gotten in without an expanded field. Even by process of elimination it would still be La La Land, if it didn't already have enough going for it. Universally beloved, unmatched technical prowess, gigantic scope, the comeback of the musical, well-liked actors, and a theme, story, and setting that's instantly relatable to the entire Academy, it can't possibly lose. It's their movie and they'll be tripping all over themselves to reward it. But you already knew that.

He never stood a chance. This was the first thought that raced through my mind at the end of Moonlight, which chronicles the life of a young black man from the rough streets of Miami as he passes from childhood to teenager through young adulthood. Well that, and the fact that what happens to this boy is probably something that's fairly realistic and could easily be going on every day. In fact, it's fair to say someone's living out a life nearly identical to this shy, withdrawn, emotionally damaged protagonist right now. This, of course, is just speculation since the hardest thing to do when watching a film is to fully immerse yourself in a world with which you have zero familiarity. By its conclusion, that changed.

Based upon Tarell Alvin McRaney's unproduced 2003 play, In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue and divvied up into an orderly and effective three-part structure by writer/director Barry Jenkins, it's one of the easiest hard movies to watch, if that makes any sense at all. Much of that is due to the quality of filmmaking and the performances, a couple in particular. Some may quibble about the third section and where it all eventually ends up compared to how it began, but it feels logical and true. And that's more than enough.

Chiron (Alex Hibbert) is nicknamed "Little" for both his size and meek personality. Looking to escape bullying at school and the emotional abuse of his crack-addicted mother Paula (Naomie Harris), the frequently silent Chiron finds himself taken in by Juan (Mahershala Ali), a local Miami drug dealer living with his girlfriend, Teresa (Janelle Monáe). Becoming a father figure of sorts to the boy, he teaches him how to swim while dispensing valuable life advice he'll never receive at home. He also finds a friend at school in Kevin (Jaden Piner), who nicknames him, "Black" and talks to him when seemingly no other kids will.

In his teen years, Juan is now gone, but Chiron (now Ashton Sanders) somehow soldiers on, unsuccessfully, with Kevin (now Jharrel Jerome) still in the picture. The bullying and his mother's addiction gets worse and an incident occurs that changes the course of his life, leading into the third section, where an adult, physically transformed Chiron (now Trevante Rhodes) is a drug dealer on the streets of Atlanta when he gets an opportunity to reconnect with Kevin (now André Holland), a diner cook still residing in Miami. Very clearly traumatized by his hellish childhood and adolescence, Chiron contemplates the opportunity to reach out to the one person left who truly understands him, with a secret they share both simultaneously standing in the way and bringing them closer.

Segmented into three chapters, it's almost inevitable that strong opinions exist as to which is best. But it's a credit to Barry Jenkins that it never feels like a contest, as each seems like a large, important piece of the puzzle in terms of constructing this person's life. But what everyone can unanimously agree on is that while the character of Juan is only in the first section, the presence of Mahershala Ali never fades even long after he's left the screen, informing every event that follows and never quite disappearing from memory. This might be the very definition of a great performance. When someone isn't in a film long or even heavily featured through much of it, and they leave such an indelible mark that it's like they've never left. I'm not even sure it hits us all at once since his actual exit occurs off screen, but it noticeably affects the teen Chiron and carries over into the adult section, which couldn't exist without Ali's performance. It really isn't until later that we start feeling the magnitude of his absence.

Juan's essentially the first person we meet when the film begins and it's obvious from the get-go that he's a force. As kind, charismatic and benevolent he is on the surface, and as much as he cares for this child, we must reconcile the fact he's also his mom's drug dealer, and perhaps indirectly responsible for their traumatic home life. One of the film's most devastating scenes is when young Chiron himself innocently comes to that realization and this mixture of shame and guilt comes across Juan's face, reducing this previously strong man to the point where he just wants to crawl into a hole and hide.

Despite fairly minimal screen time, Ali (known to most for playing lobbyist Remy Danton on House of Cards) leaves an imprint of humanity on the story that carries over, allowing audiences to accept what eventually becomes of Chiron, taking the most flawed of his childhood hero's qualities as his own. Without this, seeing him as a jacked up drug dealer resembling rapper 50 Cent would be a bridge too far for audiences to cross. It's mostly because of Ali that we're not only able to cross it, but completely believe. But before even getting there, it's the emotional turmoil of the second section, and quiet desperation of Ashton Sanders as the teen Chiron, that provide the film's most uncomfortable, tension-filled moments, as he's viciously bullied by both his own drug addicted mother and kids at school. "Bullied" may actually be too light a word.

Naomie Harris is so brutally committed in the role it's almost difficult to watch, recalling the worst/best of Monique's Oscar-winning performance in Precious. This whole section's hard to watch, yet impossible to take your eyes off of, wondering if the shy Chiron will eventually stand up for himself. What happens when he does has far-reaching consequences, in many ways creating a monster. And the worst part of it is that an argument can easily be made that this was a necessary reaction, inevitable and inescapable.

The only constant source of hope is his relationship with Kevin, to some some degree ironing out the sexual confusion he's had since he was a child, if not necessarily the repression. Tough enough as it must have been growing up with those circumstances in that neighborhood, the compounded pressure of knowing he's gay, or really different at all, couldn't have helped. But Jenkins' story isn't about so much about that as it is people being forced, through circumstances beyond their control, to become someone they're not, but were invariably meant to be. That's why the third section of the film is so powerful, with Chiron reuniting with Kevin twenty years later and at very different places in life. Though, not really.

When diner cook Kevin, subtly and outstandingly played by Holland, remarks to Chiron that "This isn't you" he's somehow both right and wrong. Now going by "Black," his physical appearance is jarring and his drug dealing profession seems at odds with the quiet boy we met at the beginning of the picture, but all this pain had to eventually manifest itself in some way. What's both sad and strangely reassuring is how you still sense that the scared little kid Juan taught to swim is very much present, perhaps even more so, as an adult. He's just found a method for not dealing with it.

There's no sense sugar-coating the fact that this film, exceptionally made as it is, is a tough sell. Of all this year's the Best Picture nominees, Moonlight may have been the one I had the least interest in watching, quickly writing it off from its trailers and commercials as an awards-baiting liberal
message movie formulated as a direct response to last year's
#OscarsSoWhite controversy and the recent political climate. Boyhood, but with a black, homosexual protagonist. Luckily, most didn't go in nearly as close-minded as I. But if you did, the good news is that Barry Jenkins should no problem winning you over. From the performances, to cinematographer James Laxton's glorious handheld camerawork to Nicholas Britell's delicate musical score, it's a top-to-bottom achievement that's nearly as big a deal as you've heard. The toughest part is getting people see it based on description alone.

The biggest surprise about Moonlight is how universal it
feels despite all those external forces that should seem to make it a
very specific film capturing a very specific experience. And how all of
this socio-political garbage disappears once it begins. It's just about a
kid who's completely lost. Simply, powerfully, it's about how certain factors shape you and sometimes there's no escaping the person you'll become because of them. Change seems nearly impossible when the wounds cut
this deep. So often at the mercy of where we grow up and how, sometimes the best we can do is survive by making superficial adjustments.

Monday, February 13, 2017

There will be those with whom La La Land will strongly connect right out of the gate. It'll be love at first sight for anyone bemoaning the fact they don't make musicals anymore, much less old school Hollywood musicals. For them, the very idea that one could be successfully made today and it not be based on previously produced material from the stage or screen once seems impossible. As does the notion that said musical, released in the year 2016, could not only do exceptionally well critically and commercially, but go on to earn a record-tying fourteen Oscar nominations. For them, the film's opening sequence, and best musical number, as drivers exit their cars during a traffic jam on a Los Angeles freeway and spontaneously burst into brilliantly choreographed song and dance, will literally be a dream come true. Going in knowing what I did about the film and my tastes, I knew I wouldn't be one of those people. Hardly predisposed to nostalgic movie memories for the genre itself, this would have to reach me some other way. And it would have to really work for it. It can be tough approaching a film this late in the conversation, especially when that discussion revolves around it be being hands-down the best of the year and frontrunner for Best Picture. You can't ignore that. It's there. And it's also baggage.

What hasn't been discussed much about the film is just how few musical numbers there are, or maybe just how carefully they've been placed into the narrative by writer/director Damien Chazelle, mostly in its first half. This is appropriate since La La Land is very much a tale of two movies. One seems tailor made for that aforementioned audience clamoring for the genre's comeback, while the second is a relationship drama about lost love, broken dreams and rejection sure to strike a chord with more skeptical, cynical filmgoers like myself. This was the only movie from the past year I was actually apprehensive to see out of concern it could be a disaster. Under normal circumstances that would be fine. But not from the director of Whiplash and starring Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling. Thankfully, it's easy to see why everyone's going crazy over it. There are about fifteen things, big and small, you could list that are great about the film, and out of those, the natural, easygoing chemistry between its stars has to rank near the top.

We knew when they first shared the screen in 2011's Crazy, Stupid, Love that what Stone and Gosling have and how they play off each other can't just simply be replicated by another random actor pairing. And now two careers whose have been steadily and consistently rising are given the opportunity to show the uninitiated what they're capable of on the biggest stage possible And still, the whole thing had me worried as it's a bit of a tightrope walk throughout. Even after seeing it, this one had to really sit a while since it does leave you with something. While that "something" isn't ideas, certain scenes and sequences still linger long afterward, indicating this isn't as fluffy as some of its detractors have accused. There's a lot to appreciate here, even if different audiences may find it in entirely different places.

It's winter in Los Angeles and after a brief, but unpleasant highway encounter with struggling Jazz pianist Sebastian (Gosling), Warner Bros studio lot barista and aspiring actress Mia (Stone) is off to another eventually unsuccessful audition. When an attempt by her roommates to brighten her mood by hitting up a Hollywood Hills party ends without her car, she finds herself at a restaurant involved in another chance meeting with Seb, just fired from his gig by owner Bill (J.K. Simmons) for slipping into jazz improvisation during his mandated set. This time, he's even more of a jerk to her. It isn't until a couple of months later that they really connect at a party and soon start to fall head over heels for each other after a few memorable dates at the movies, a jazz club, the studio lot and the Griffith Observatory.

As rapidly as Mia and Seb's relationship is progressing, both their career aspirations have cripplingly stalled, with the painful rejections of the auditioning process proving
too much for Mia as she starts working on her single-actress stage play, wondering if she's even cut out for this business at all. Seb's unable to hold down a steady gig, causing him to shelve his dream of opening a jazz club in favor of joining the band of his old friend, Keith (John Legend) as their keyboardist. But when something starts happening for one of them, their relationship is given a serious test, as they must decide whether fulfilling their dreams in a town known for routinely shattering them is worth the sacrifice of each other.

That these are two clearly written and defined characters is important to get out of the way first because if they weren't none of the riskier elements would fall into to place like they do. And while there are times they fall into place perfectly, there are also occasional instances when they don't. There were definitely points where a musical number seemed to stretch on a bit too long or a dialogue exchange dragged, but it's tough to tell how much of that can be attributed to it just going with the territory when you make this type of film, which undoubtedly plays by a different set of rules than usual. That all of this is okay is a credit to how well Chazelle confidently announces from the beginning what we're getting, and while it veers from that formula a bit in the second half, it's still fair to say he never strays too far.

You're either on board or you're not and chances are you'll know within a matter of minutes. It's apparent the movie means business when we see that classic Cinemascope logo pop up on the screen and, following that sensational pre-credits number, a giant 1950's-style title card. While the inventively choreographed "Another Day of Sun" is by far the sunniest, peppiest number in the film, all the ones that follow really strong as well, with the more melancholy and likely Oscar-winning "City of Stars" and Audition ("The Fools Who Dream") being standouts.

Stone and Gosling aren't singers but neither are their characters so the fact that they're not world class crooners or even dancers actually lends an added air of credibility to the proceedings. And it should be noted that such a criticism couldn't even extend to the former, who really acquits herself well in both departments. This is a musical, but as strange as it sounds, that's not what either were hired for. Before anything, they're completely believable as a couple, and for all the attention the songs and musical sequences have gotten, the biggest relief for me is the emphasis on the non-musical scenes and story.

The best moments involve Mia and Seb just talking and getting to know each other against the backdrop of an admittedly heightened and idealized L.A, presented in all its vivid, colorful, widescreen glory by cinematographer Linus Sandgren, foregoing digital to shoot on film and emulate the look and feel of the classic musicals that obviously inspired this one. He's succeeded, as no recently released picture looks quite as inviting as this, and in a really different way that immediately sets it apart. While it's easy to roll your eyes these days at anyone claiming you "have to" see a certain film on the big screen, this actually meets the qualification. Similar praise can be reserved for the costume and production design, which, despite being a throwback, has kind of this timeless quality that's unusual for a film set in present day, with Justin Hurwitz's musical score perfectly and subtly underlining that.

If Gosling's contributions have gone somewhat overlooked in the quieter, more understated role that's only because Emma Stone leaves such an indelible mark. He's nearly as good as the struggling pianist, but it hardly matters since neither performance could fully exist without the other and if you recast just one of them, we wouldn't be having the same conversation about the film we are now. Despite her rapid ascent and charismatic screen presence over the past five to ten years, Emma isn't necessarily an actress who can be plugged into any part in any project, but she can do this. And does she ever nail it. Mia is pretty much the dream role for her, taking full advantage of the sense of humor, elegance, goofiness and vulnerability she's been bringing to the table since we first saw her a decade ago.

Beaten down by constant rejection, Stone's best scene is an emotional audition where Mia's delivering brilliant, a heart wrenching monologue that's curtly interrupted by a casting agent's utter apathy. The look on her face says everything. No one cares. And she'll mostly be in this alone so it's time to toughen up or get out. It's probably the most realistic moment in a film that consistently and effectively operates on a level of hyper-realism for most of its running time. This also sets the table for what comes later, when the relationship hits a roadblock that doesn't feel manufactured and we're treated to an inspired final fifteen minutes that then proves it isn't, deviating just enough from conventional expectations.

While it's been a bit overstated just how much of a turn the last third takes, this won't be considered a tragedy anytime soon, as both characters aren't exactly suffering. And yet, Chazelle has us so entrenched in this world of theirs, we believe that in some bittersweet way they are. That it's well executed and has something to say about the messiness of life and the pain of missed opportunities only bolsters the overall viewing experience. Having already given us one of the deepest, most thought provoking endings in years with Whiplash, it was brave of Chazelle to even attempt surprising us a second time. Then again, this whole thing is kind of brave when you think about it. There are so many different ways La La Land could have all gone wrong, and that it doesn't, might be more of a feat than all the awards it's received. It's always great seeing something new, but what can be even greater is seeing something old in an entirely fresh light, making it feel new again.

When we first meet Ray Kroc, a failed traveling salesman in his early fifties from Illinois, he's peddling industrial milkshake mixers to uninterested restaurant owners. That is until he meets the McDonald brothers, the only two guys crazy enough to buy from him. What happens when Ray goes out to their San Bernadino, California diner in 1954 is not only one of the most memorable sequences in John Lee Hancock's The Founder and the story's catalyst, but a love letter to the power of creativity and amazement. If it was hard to grasp just how revolutionary the concept of McDonald's was at the time, Ray's reaction to getting his burger in 30 seconds in disposable wrapping as families enjoy their meals next to him, tells you all there is to know. You can see and feel exactly why he's so bowled over by it, and watching the scene, you'd be forgiven for thinking it's the greatest idea that ever was. At the time, and even today, there's a lot of truth in that. But an idea is just that until it becomes something more. Something bigger. Ray Kroc liked to think big and after years of hawking bad products, he knew a sure bet when he saw it. What he lacked in creativity he made up for ten times over in persistence and business savvy. A visionary who saw the limitless potential in someone else's concept, he ran with it in a way they couldn't, morality and consequences be damned.

At its core, The Founder really boils down to one question: At what point does an idea become so great that it needs to be shared with the world? And once it is, what's the cost? The answer to that casts a shadow over the film that completely reframes Ray's aforementioned visit to McDonald's Burgers in San Bernardino and his contagious enthusiasm. He was right to do whatever it took to push this through just as the McDonald brothers were in fighting to preserve the integrity of their creation every step of the way. And just as he was wrong to screw them out of what was rightfully theirs, an equally strong case can be made for their inflexibility and resistance to change. And yet the man we see at the end, as ethically compromised as he is, still strangely remains very much the same one we met at the beginning. That's the true genius in Michael Keaton's complicated, unfairly overlooked performance, which already seems destined to go down as one of the most underappreciated of his career.

The arrival of Ray Kroc (Keaton) at McDonald's Burgers represents for Dick (Nick Offerman) and Mac (John Carroll Lynch) and Mac McDonald to correct an opportunity they let slip through their fingers once before. An unsuccessful previous attempt to franchise out their revolutionary fast food burger joint was marred by the challenge of maintaining the same high level of customer service and food quality throughout the chain. Enter Kroc. The brothers are approached, and actually somewhat stalked, by the Prince Castle salesman who's so impressed with their unique business model emphasizing a speedy food delivery service that keeps costs down, he wants to hear their story. And it's a pretty amazing one, as they tell him how they started out in the movie industry before eventually landing in the food service business, which they thought was in serious need of some tweaking. Chalk diagrams on a tennis court provided the blueprints for what would become McDonald's kitchen, with each station serving a specific function in getting quality food to the customer as quickly as possible. No more waiting at drive-ins.

While Dick's heavily skeptical of Ray's interest from the onset, Mac's convinced they finally found the guy that understands their product and can help them fulfill their dreams of expansion. After appealing to their sense of patriotism, envisioning the golden arches side by side with American flags and church steeples across the nation, they reluctantly agree to a deal. And while it initially does seem to be the perfect match for all involved and Ray makes some smart decisions, the brothers' traditional approach soon clashes with his towering ambition. Mortgaging his home while sacrificing his marriage to wife Ethel (Laura Dern), he continues expansion at a rapid rate, soon realizing this will never work unless he hires the right people and gets out from under the thumb of the brothers, who have him locked in a contract mandating them final say on any new idea he has. In order to succeed Ray will have to get creative, even if the morally questionable moves he makes in the name of business could forever taint his claim as the true "founder" of McDonald's.

If Ray sees dollar signs the first time he lays eyes on the brothers' establishment, there's also a certain admiration and respect for what they created, as well as a desire to prove to everyone he isn't the failure they believe him to be by shepherding it to greater success. While he likes the brothers, he also knows they're gullible and not businessmen, which could explain why they were presumably taken for a ride in their last attempt to franchise. They need him just as much as he needs them if there's any desire in the brothers to build on their creation. And Ray isn't kidding himself on his own prospects either. He's at an age where this is clearly his last shot and he's already looked at as a joke by he and his wife's country club contemporaries, who can't wait to get in on the action when they realize his latest dream could actually bare financial fruit.

Ray's complete rejection of these rich, retired country clubbers' investment in this franchising when he recognizes their laziness and lack of commitment is probably his finest hour. Seeing him outside the restaurant on his hand and knees cleaning up the trash, more determined than ever to hire those who work and care about quality is the strongest case to be made for him as a decent human being. That, and his willingness to hire anyone from any walk of life (sometimes right off the street) he feels will do a good job is another feather in his cap. And yet Ray is also one of the worst candidates to accumulate such success and wealth at this rapid a rate because he's been beaten down so long. With a chip on his shoulder and something to prove, he's like a kid in a candy store when given just a taste of it. Not only does he roll over the McDonald brothers, he basically discards Ethel at the first sight of Joan (Linda Cardellini), the captivating wife of a franchisee (Patrick Wilson).

Despite knowing the terms when he signed, you could see how the brothers' dismissal of every one of Ray's ideas as crass commercialism or off-brand send him over the deep end. Ray definitely doesn't play fair and surely doesn't care, but while even his more Machiavellian methods could be defended as necessary to getting McDonald's where it needs to go, it doesn't explain the lack of credit or compensation for them once it gets there. He'd explain it away by saying it was business but you can't help but think back to Dick's statement that they "let a wolf in the hen house." Toward the third act of the picture it becomes clear that they may have actually franchised out their company and lives to someone whose business ethics are more closely aligned with Daniel Plainview's from There Will Be a Blood.

The casting of Keaton as Kroc is nothing short of a masterstroke. He's so inherently likable as a scrappy underdog that it could seem incomprehensible he'd take the actions he does later if not for the fact that this is an actor equally skilled at going to those darker, unlikable places. John Lee Hancock (director of The Blind Side and writer of 1993's A Perfect World) hasn't necessarily made a dark film here, but against the bright, nostalgic hue of 1950's America gorgeously photographed by cinematographer John Schwartzman and memorably scored by Carter Burwell, is this undercurrent of greed and avarice. Most of that is provided by Keaton, who has to simultaneously juggle multiple balls in the air playing someone who could have easily been categorized as one-note meglomaniacal businessman in the hands of a lesser performer. We don't sense your typical "transformation," because what happens is exactly what Ray wanted to have happen the second he saw McDonald's Burgers.

That gleam in Keaton's eye was there when he stepped on the lot and it's up to audiences to reconcile that with what comes later. While a specifically memorable shot in the film directly references a key moment in Citizen Kane and while it shares similar themes, a better comparison might be The Social Network, as a rejected outcast finally gets the opportunity to prove himself, hurting those around him on his way to the top. This is Keaton's movie, as it should completely be, but Nick Offerman really shines in his best big screen role to date as the doubting Dick McDonald, who ends up getting sucked into this anyway despite all his initial misgivings about how it could adversely affect his brother's health.

Released with such little promotion and fanfare that few knew it existed at all, it almost seems fitting that the studio behind The Founder is embroiled in a lawsuit over how mismanaged its release actually was, potentially costing Keaton another shot at an Oscar, this time for a performance that certainly would have otherwise gotten awards attention. Someone dropped the ball, which is a shame considering it's exactly the kind of film we need right now, and one of a select few this year that says as much about the times we live in now as the seemingly bygone era during which it took place. Hate or love Ray Kroc, there's no denying that what he did worked and had a serious effect on consumerism and branding all over the world, with its ripples still very much being felt today. How he did it should continue to be fodder for debate. You could say he drank the McDonald brothers' milkshake. And as an added insult, he used powdered milk.